O’Flynn was first and foremost a railroad man. He had worked for the Southern Pacific for years before his injuries, and the infidelity of his masters forced him out with a tawdry pittance. Knowing that, where do you think the most suspicion would be aimed? Perhaps one might argue that the Pacific Improvement Company and the railroad made him an offer that impending penury obliged him to accept. Who can say? We believe the question should be left to the courts. Don’t you agree? But either way, Mr. O’Flynn will not be present to stand in the dock to take the blame or point fingers. So the question of responsibility will remain a mystery for quite some time, and indeed may never be resolved to anyone’s satisfaction, which is perhaps as it should be.”
“But what about the villagers and their homes?”
“That was also seen to. In preparation for the impending destruction, the tong arranged to take an extended lease on some property over on McAbee Beach in Monterey. The fishermen were back on the bay three days after the fire, and the villagers will soon replace everything they lost, thanks to the prompt attention of the Southern Pacific Insurance Company, which under the circumstances could find no reason to disavow the claim. They were mired in their own machinations with nowhere to turn. They will drag their feet, no doubt, but they’ll pay up in the end unless they wish to see their Chinese labor force go on strike. It was all very well thought out, I assure you.”
Here I found a chink in the doctor’s reasoning. “But, if secrecy was so paramount, why have you told me all this? What prevents me from taking what information I have to the authorities?”
“Because, Professor, you are an honest and empathetic man, and were once a friend of our Mr. O’Flynn. You also know about the seal and the stone. But you are also a highly intelligent man and aware, I’m sure, that without absolute proof, your hearsay testimony would be scorned as improbable, if not altogether ridiculous. And I’m quite sure you’ll agree that neither the Pacific Improvement Company nor the Southern Pacific Railroad will acknowledge that any such plot to burn us out ever existed. But if, however, you did choose to take such an action, the tong would vehemently deny all knowledge of Mr. O’Flynn, of you, and this meeting, to say nothing of the artifacts you claim to have examined and copied. For I assure you, Professor, no American will ever lay eyes on those treasures again.”
I left the village at Point Alones feeling quite giddy. It was almost as though the whole situation had been conjured in a murky dream and, as such, perched beyond explanation. Even to those of my contemporaries who might be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, the lack of all corroboration would mark me as a crank or, worse still, the victim of an elaborate hoax perpetrated by a disgruntled employee.
I slowly realized that Dr. Lao-Hong was right. Anything I might publicly say on the matter would most likely be ridiculed as pure invention or, at the very least, idle speculation. For it’s certain that the white population hereabouts would never acknowledge or believe that these supposedly ignorant and lowly Chinese could have so deftly arranged matters for their own benefit, or so thoroughly hoodwinked those who had planned their destruction.
Though I’m now sure that the chain of events will live on only in my journal, and probably go no further, I’m left with a very intriguing source of speculation. What would history have been like if that famous Chinese admiral and his great fleet, armed as they were with highly developed technology and political expertise, had stayed behind in California to protect their claims of discovery? After all, Columbus managed to make a sizable impact on history with far fewer resources and much less intelligence. But of one thing I’m now quite sure. If those medieval Spanish conquistadors, lacking as they did all enlightened self-interest, should have come upon a thoroughly entrenched Chinese presence in California, they wouldn’t have stood the remotest chance at conquest, much less trade. It’s my studied opinion that men of violence rarely indulge in honest commerce.
—Dr. Charles Gilbert
THE THORNS OF WISDOM
“No man needs more than one blade to cut his own throat.”
—CHINESE PROVERB
THE IDES OF JUNE FOUND Dr. Lao-Hong in his San Francisco study writing a long letter to an old college friend in Boston. Indeed, the doctor had received a number of concerned letters from old colleagues and friends asking after his well-being since the disastrous earthquake two months earlier, but he was only now finding the time to respond. But in doing so he discovered that the very act of setting down recent events from his own perspective led him to sort out and scrutinize all his thoughts and reflections for the first time in months. He made no attempt to write down everything, of course, but he pondered everything in as dispassionate a manner as he could muster. His one discomforting obstacle rested in the knowledge that he was, to some degree, little more than a yarn ball in the cat’s paw of fortune. For in truth there were really two diametrically opposed experiences inextricably knotted together in his thoughts; one was but the shadow manifestation of the other. But he could only share one part of the story, the rest he would have to take to his grave, and at age thirty-seven he believed that was a long time to keep a secret, but he would do it. Betrayal was out of the question.
The doctor’s letters were gracious. He was sincerely gratified by the solicitude of his friends, but he only felt comfortable writing about the basic facts as he viewed them, and for the most part he recomposed general news and personal observations. The outline remained principally the same for each letter.
Dr. Lao-Hong wrote that 1906 had been a most distressing and disagreeable year for a great number of people in northern California. The range of deadly earthquakes and their aftermath meant that most everyone except undertakers suffered serious financial loss in one form or another. A destroyed business, of whatever size and importance, meant no employment. But it was all the same, as there were no customers, and there were no patrons because there were no accessible funds for them to spend. Credit was all but impossible to get because many banks, along with their records, had been severely damaged in the earthquakes, or subsequently destroyed by fire. Hard cash money had dried up almost overnight because the price of every conceivable commodity, from goat’s milk to buggy whips, became shockingly exorbitant. Prices for the simplest staples rose astronomically, and good whiskey and other spirits became so rare and costly that even a number of gambling dens, dance halls, and back- alley saloons went belly-up. But by far, the worst scandals were perpetrated by the blackguards who manipulated the trade in essential medications and medical supplies. Their dealings were nothing if not blatant and merciless criminal extortion. And though it was probably only a slight exaggeration, it was wildly rumored that in some parts of San Francisco, a badly injured person needed gold to enjoy the privilege of staying alive.
The consequences of this series of events rippled out in all directions, substantially affecting all strata of society. Leaving himself till last, Dr. Lao-Hong was pleased to report to his friends that his family was safe and well, and presently staying with relatives in Oakland. He was grateful that his own dwelling suffered only moderate structural damage, though its contents had been liberally thrown about. Anything that could be broken had been.
